


Towards the Setting Sun

by misura



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Character Death Fix, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9824351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "You gave away myhorse?"





	

Before his death, Joshua Faraday had been an annoying, arrogant son of a bitch.

As such, Vasquez supposed that it should not have come as any surprise to him that dying had not noticeably improved Faraday's charms, if such they could be called.

"You gave away my _horse_?" There was blood on Faraday's clothes, most of it his.

"I did." Vasquez grinned. To a living man, he might have felt an apology was owed, but Faraday had died and besides, even in life, he had not been the sort of man one offered apologies to. "But hey, I kept your guns. That's something, eh, guero?"

Faraday scowled. "Know what I did to the last guy who touched my guns?"

Vasquez considered the peace and quiet of these past days, knowing that some distance behind him lay a village and a grave marked with the name of Joshua Faraday. "The same thing I did to the last man who touched one of my Marias?"

Faraday scowled a bit more. "That is a totally unfair reply. I mean, what does that even mean? Also, come on. Like you _actually_ have three women out there, waiting for you."

"It is not so hard, to keep a woman happy," Vasquez said. His mother, at least, had always expressed joy at seeing him. It had helped that she had raised him well, of course: it was a poorly raised son who showed up without something to ease his elder mother's life. "Not like some guero who is always complaining about this or that little thing."

"Hey, now." Faraday spread his hands. "Complaining? Since when does pointing out a very simple and straightforward fact count as complaining? Besides, you know what they say about size."

"You are a very big pain in the ass, guerito," Vasquez said.

Faraday smiled at him sunnily. "Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you."

"Where I come from, that is not a compliment." Vasquez hadn't shot anyone dead for less, he didn't think, but displeasure might be expressed by aiming for less important parts of a man's body.

"Then let's not go back there. How about where we're going to?"

Vasquez had made no plans. He was, still, a wanted man. A hunted man. Something would occur, and he would roll with it. "We, guero?"

"Hey," Faraday said, "you owe me a horse, muchacho, on account of you having rudely given away mine. And I could really use a new vest, too. A nice one, mind. Got to look good for the ladies, right?" He waggled his eyebrows. "You gonna introduce me to your gals, I wanna look my best."

Vasquez imagined what his mother might have to say if he brought home someone like Faraday.

"Or we could, I don't know, find some more bad guys to kill?" Faraday went on, happily oblivious.

With his luck, she'd likely as not declare Faraday her sweet chicken and dredge up every single story she knew about his childhood sins, before running off to get the priest to reassure her that certain things were not considered sinful so long as they involved family.

"You think we are good guys now, guero?"

"Hey, you're Catholic, right? Means long as you say you're sorry, you're good. Me, now - well, all things considered, I reckon He and I have things squared between us."

Vasquez couldn't remember the last time he'd been to confession. "Guero?"

"What?" Faraday asked, a bit warily. "You're not going to tell me to walk, are you? I mean, I know your horse isn't all that - not like Jack, but I think we're good for another day or so. I'm not that heavy."

"I am glad that you are not dead. Life without you, it was not the same."

Faraday blinked, then put on what he apparently imagined to be his poker face. "Uh, thanks. Mexican sentimentality, huh? Are you going to hug me, next? 'cause I gotta tell you, I'm not sure if I'm real comfortable with that, what with us being right out here in the open and everything."

"Mind you, I did not say that it was not better."

Faraday chuckled. "Sure you didn't. So how about that hug? Don't worry about the blood - I mean, it's mine, but it's all nice and dry and everything."

"Perhaps later."

"Later?" Faraday chuckled again. "Muchacho, once we get to later, I'll be expecting a lot more from you than just a hug."

Vasquez had never used to think of himself as a fool, as the sort of man who might be tempted to do foolish things for no better reason than a pair of pretty eyes. "Already the complaining starts."

Faraday shrugged.

Vasquez supposed that was fair enough: there was nothing much more that needed saying right now. They would share the horse, the food, the water and, later, the blankets.

They might, eventually, share the death that came to all men who lived their lives outside the law.

"Yo, Vasquez."

Faraday had claimed that he weighed little, but he weighed enough to reassure Vasquez that there was indeed someone behind him, warm and alive and breathing. (Also, naturally, talking. Endlessly talking.)

"What, guero?"

"I'm glad I'm not dead, too."


End file.
